


The Askran Alliance: a FEH short collection

by Scarbucks_Coffee



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:31:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarbucks_Coffee/pseuds/Scarbucks_Coffee
Summary: Various Fire Emblem Heroes short writing pieces. There's only two right now though. Will be updated whenever I feel like it or get a prompt.





	1. Two Assassins

It was late evening in Askr. Dusk was just beginning to loom over its inhabitants; the majority of them were conversing idly in the multitudes of common areas that dotted the castle. On one side of the castle, a sardonically gleeful Azama roughly shoved Hector, Eldigan, and a kimono-clad Takumi – all three still dazed from being recently summoned – into a side door labeled “CAMILLA’S EXP FARM”. On the other side was Nino, staring curiously as Genny opened up her notebook, sat down, and began to read one of her stories aloud.

Naturally, there had to be a few guards. Frederick shoved off the cold air as he kept watch with stoic vigilance; he never questioned why he was clad in swimwear in the winter, nor why he was holding seashells to launch at approaching enemies. Beside him was Faye, staring out blankly into the sky as she pondered, hoping aimlessly that the next banner would have a powerful red unit so that Kiran would summon for them and ‘conveniently’ get pity-broken by Alm.

Alone, a teal-haired assassin patrolled the empty halls, shrouded in the dim light of the castle torches. She paused, examining her ridiculous weapon: a large golden bell, passed on by a twin-tailed blondie whose life seemed to depend on insisting that she wasn’t delicate.

_ This is absurd. Why would Kiran give me such a weapon? An assassin like myself cannot be expected to simply bash my targets’ heads in like some barbarian. A sharper, cleaner weapon would be much better suited for the job. _

Beruka gently returned the bell to its “sheath” – well, more like a sack hanging from her shoulder – and replaced it with her usual semicircle-shaped axe. (A “Slaying Axe”, as they called it. She personally preferred her previous weapon’s title, “Killer Axe”, as that was more… crisp and clear.) It was light and breezy in her hands, like always; just touching it brought back the familiar glow of-

Movement.

Beruka’s gaze suddenly shot to the flickering shadow. Someone was nearby. Not wasting a moment, she swung the axe in a horizontal sweeping motion, and it hit something hard with a clang.

Two curled daggers had reached out of the shadows and blocked her strike. They remained there for only a moment longer, however; then, like lightning, they were gone.

Beruka swiveled around and raised the axe, perfectly predicting the next strike. Her assailant bounced harmlessly off and ricocheted into who-knows-where; she turned towards where they had disappeared in what was almost amusement.

“You are aware that if you look at things statistically, I have the highest Defense out of the entire Askran Alliance? Do not waste my time. If you want to fight, you will get nowhere striking from the shadows like that.”

The enemy made no response. Instead, the daggers lunged forwards once again, this time bouncing harmlessly off of her armor. In response, Beruka swung her axe again in a concentrated chop; it hit the engraved path beneath them with a sharp noise.

Her opponent nimbly backflipped and landed back on their feet, pausing. The dark ripples of cloth around his head swam backwards, revealing a young yet aged face, dead eyes, and reddish hair.

“You’re… Jaffar.”

The Angel of Death had suddenly appeared in Askr just the week before, after Kiran finally got sick of Nino constantly begging him to spend orbs on the “Weapons to Refine: Part 2” banner. In the days after he had been summoned, Jaffar had remained aloof, avoiding pretty much all of the other heroes sans Nino and occasionally the other members of the Black Fang. He was never even seen training in the Camilla Experience Farm; neither Azama nor local training fanatic Cain had managed to force him into farming for EXP.

“Beruka.” Jaffar’s eyes tore holes through her, but she didn’t react. “Why did you attack me?”

“I was patrolling the grounds and spotted movement,” replied Beruka methodically. “When I saw you, I assumed you were en route to Kiran’s quarters. It appeared as if you were attempting to assassinate him. I would not be surprised if that is truly the case, especially due to the suspicious circumstances surrounding your actions here.”

“Isn’t that ironic.” Jaffar blinked. “It seems I should defend myself then. I have no intention of assassinating Kiran. As a matter of fact, I was doing the opposite.”

“Explain yourself, then.” Beruka lifted the axe.

“I’ve spent my time here observing.” Jaffar’s voice was cool and precise. “I noticed a few… outliers. Bad eggs, as they were, who didn’t seem like the others. People like Valter and Michalis, who might… backstab this Order of Heroes at any moment. But as ambitious as Michalis is, I don’t think he is bold enough to try to kill Kiran in plain sight, nor is he sneaky enough to pull off a quick assassination. I can say the same for Valter, minus the bold part.”

“Your point is?” It was true that Valter was bold and… not exactly private about his intentions to eventually kill Kiran. Beruka knew this from personal experience and had made a mental note to keep a close eye on the Moonstone.

“The only way for someone to pull off killing Kiran in such an environment would be to do it sneakily, and there are only a few people in the castle right now who could do such a thing.” Jaffar twirled a dagger around his fingers. “But Clarisse, Saizo and Kagero seem to be seriously concerned about Kiran’s safety. Matthew too… but I trust Matthew. Which leaves one more option: you.”

“Me?” A glimmer of amusement flickered in Beruka’s eyes. “Do continue. How did you come to that conclusion?”

“I’m not sure how you did it, but somehow you managed to win Kiran over,” replied Jaffar quietly. “He chose you, out of a sea of other unremarkable faces, to invest in. You were chosen over Cherche, Camilla, and even Michalis, who before Skill Inheritance appeared to outclass you fully on paper. In addition, if you look at the Askran summoning records, Kiran has spent a total of around 168,000 feathers on you, along with three five-star units. And this  _ is  _ Kiran we’re talking about, after all – I presume you’ve noticed how stingy he is with expending his precious five-stars for inheriting skills.”

Beruka glanced at the handbell again.

“I heard from Nino that you have never ever reciprocated his gifts,” continued Jaffar. “Instead, you simply appeared to write them off as a utility-based choice, like an asset in battle. I have come to the conclusion that you intend to promote this behavior in the hopes that Kiran would someday make himself vulnerable; in that moment of weakness, you plan on striking him down, crippling the Askran army.”

Jaffar paused, his cool voice never faltering. “You knew that the upcoming Sacred Stones summon introduced Myrrh, who Kiran would see as a more optimal choice. You decided that now, when you still hold his trust, would be the best time to take him out before he summons for Myrrh and replaces you.”

Silence flowed around them for a moment.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

Beruka finally spoke up. “I see. If you truly believe that, then you are quite mistaken. Kiran is not utilitarian like you or me. He does not gauge his Heroes by their skill in battle.”

It was the truth. A few weeks before, a wayward traveller named Katarina had wildly stumbled into Askr; after further examination, it was evident that something in the summoning process had severely impaired her magical prowess. Kiran never faulted her for it, however; instead, he took her as one of his elite soldiers and eventually shaped her into one of his main team members, alongside Beruka, Valter, and a vampire boy prone to giggling.

“I have no intention of killing the same man who spent so much time and effort for me,” continued Beruka.

“Any normal person would’ve done something in return,” muttered Jaffar. “Even an assassin like yourself or me.”

“I don’t think I can… comprehend my emotions enough yet to reciprocate in a traditional fashion.” Beruka’s gaze turned to one of the torches on the walls. “Instead, I return his favors on the battlefield by acting as his subcommander – as his most trusted lieutenant and most skilled officer. Even if I cannot grasp how to casually return his gifts, at the very least I can do so by protecting him in battle.”

Jaffar shut his eyes for a moment. “I see. It seems that I’m not the only one who doesn’t quite understand the world of emotions yet.”

“Plus, we attacked each other with the exact same motivation,” murmured Beruka. “To some extent, we are actually quite alike.”

Jaffar’s only response was a raise of an eyebrow and a low “Hm.”

 

•••

 

The winter season brought a great many things to the Askran kingdom. Surrounded by the cold air, Katarina managed to harness the snow around herself to channel her Glacies, disrupting the nearby Narcian’s practically _**perfect**_ ice sculpture of himself. A few days later, Kiran finally broke out of his “cycle of endless Sophias” as a dazed and confused Hinata crumpled out of the Breidablik’s muzzle.

In the midst of everything, two Heroes, both raised as messengers of swift death, managed to lower their aloof fronts and realize that they were truly birds of a feather.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick short in response to the prompt "What did Kiran do for the game anniversary?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to use my Summoner's actual name for this one (Dosu), rather than the default Kiran.

“And… done. Merging complete.”

Beruka stepped silently out of the merging room, her gaze never flickering. Behind her, Azama, his expression bubbling over with dry amusement as always, cleanly slid the door shut.

“It looks like a feather or two exploded in there,” he murmured under his breath. “Someone’s going to have a fun time cleaning that up. I know it’s not me, and that’s enough of a reason to rejoice!”

He sauntered off with a giddy expression and a little spring in his step.

“...Perhaps we should request for separate rooms for merging and using feathers?” offered Beruka, her voice quiet as always, as we began to walk back to the common area.

“Perhaps,” I replied. Our footsteps echoed in the halls, and we walked back in a comforting silence. Or perhaps something did happen that I missed – after all, I was noticeably sleep-deprived and much more stressed from, well, acting as a Summoner.

As we reached the door, Beruka paused.

“I must say… thank you, for enabling me to reach my full potential,” she stated in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

“No problem,” I replied. “You deserve it.” It was true – all too often she carried our group to victory, even after I made dumb tactical blunders or failed to foresee things. She was my trump card, and it only felt fitting for her to be the first Hero who I pushed to the maximum limit – or, as the Askran database called it, 5*+10.

How convenient that it had been an entire year since I had been dragged here, too-

“But I do have a question.”

I paused. “What’s the matter?”

“Dosu, now that you are finished with me,” she continued, “who will you turn to next?”

Her question made me stop and ponder. There were quite a few others waiting in line for feathers, since my investment into Beruka had completely halted everyone else’s feather growth.

“May I recommend Selena?” she offered. “I presume you have noticed that one of your… friends had quite an impressive rendition of her? If we could recreate that…”

“I wish,” I replied. “Nobody here knows Steady Breath.”

“I see,” she responded. “Then how about the blonde archer? The one from Archanea, I mean.”

“You mean Jeorge?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Beruka paused before providing some brief analysis. As my subcommander, she had naturally grown accustomed to my roster’s strengths and weaknesses as well. “He would definitely be a welcome asset to our front line, especially with that legendary weapon of his. It would allow us to counter… magic users much more reliably than before.”

“But who should I remove from the front line, then?” I replied. “Henry?”

“That I am not sure about yet.” Beruka glanced at the torches on the walls. For a moment, she remained silent.

“Dosu…”

“What is it?”

“You look extremely tired,” she said. “Why don’t you rest up? If we lost you...”

“Heh, I understand.” I had heard similar things from many others. But I couldn’t stop now. I’d led the group through a year of war – a war which I intended to complete before I gave up. I’d give them that much, at the very least. “But please–”

Beruka cut me off. “Don’t say you’re fine. Whenever you say that, I can tell you’re just trying to stay strong for our sakes.” She paused again, shutting her eyes for a brief moment. “You don’t need to. We’re strong, thanks to you. Take a rest, even if it’s just for the day. I’ll take over your responsibilities in your place.”

“Are you sure you can–?”

“The Askran kingdom has survived for a long time without you,” replied Beruka. For the first time since we had met, her voice almost seemed… lighthearted. “What’s to say it can’t go another day?”

I mean… I can’t argue with that. “Fine, you win. Don’t push yourself too hard in my stead, alright?”

“I was just about to tell you the same thing. Don’t push yourself, Dosu. Get some rest.”

With those words, Beruka promptly disappeared through the door and into the common area, leaving me alone once more. Heeding her words, I turned the other way and began to walk towards my quarters, silently pondering what the future would bring us.

 

XXX

 

“Good morning, Dosu!”

...Morning already, huh… that went way quicker than I thought.

“Huh…?”

Light poured in through the open door, temporarily blinding me for a moment. Standing in the doorway was Princess Caeda of Talys, the very first 5-star Hero I had summoned.

“What… time is it?” I pushed my tired body up.

“Still pretty early,” she replied. “Around 6:30 or so.”

“Is everyone up?”

“No, you were the first one I went to check on,” replied Caeda. “Beruka told me about her chat with you, and… I got worried. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I reply. “Just tired as usual, you know. But I’m feeling better than before.”

“Good to hear.” Caeda’s expression turned into one of relief at my words.

“I… I don’t get many opportunities to say this, but…” I stop myself, searching for the right words. “Thanks for keeping the castle running in my stead. It really takes a lot of work off my back.”

“Of course, anything I can do to help.”

According to Commander Anna, the summoning process wasn’t yet perfect. Almost all of the Heroes I summoned received slight variations in their powers and abilities (Anna called this variation “IVs”, whatever that means) that could help or hinder in battle. When I summoned Caeda, she received a serious physical ailment that hindered her strength, making her attacks practically harmless against most of our enemies. Of course, Caeda felt incredibly burdened by this, even though I told her not to worry; desperate to bring some contribution to the Order, she turned to helping out around the castle, cooking for the others, and even waking us up to fight when a skirmish was going on. Even though she never fought with us, Caeda quickly became an essential piece of the Order.

“Who’s on breakfast duty today?” I asked.

“Est, Cordelia, and Seth,” replied Caeda. “I bet Abel’s going to be happy about that. You know how he feels about Est’s cooking.”

“Haha, of course.”

“Alright, I’m going to grab the others.” Caeda turned back towards the hallway. “See you in a bit, Dosu.”

“Bye, Caeda. And good morning to you too.”

“Of course!”

Caeda vanished into the hallway, humming to herself as she walked away. After she left, I glanced up at the lengthy white cloak that Alfonse and Sharena had given me on my first day in Askr. It had become a staple of my battle attire, especially thanks to the… unpleasant cold of Nifl.

_ One year, huh… it’s definitely been a while. _


	3. The Legend of CYL3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love the Luke.

“That’s all? Can’t be. Not for me.”

 

Luke shook his head and shoved the paper away from him, letting it slide on his desk. On the paper, in Anna’s scrawled handwriting, was the following message:

 

“CONGRATULATIONS! YOU RECEIVED  _**58** _ TOTAL VOTES, EARNING YOU THE PLACE OF  _**534th** _ IN CHOOSE YOUR LEGENDS 3! WE HOPE TO SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR!”

 

534th place, out of 569…

 

Luke leaned back and flopped on his bunk, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

 

“Hahaha… that’s a good one… me, the legend, 534th place…”

 

He was the Protagonist. The Hero of the story. The man who would become a Legend. That’s what he had told Roderick and his other comrades when he first joined the 7th Platoon, and that’s what he had said when he was first summoned to this alien landscape.

 

“Ha ha ha… this has got to be an error. Yes, that’s it! An error. I’m going to go down to Commander Anna and ask for a re-count…”

 

But then the man’s energy suddenly disappeared. The smile retreated back into his heart, leaving blankness on his face for a good while.

 

He sat up, pushed himself up with the frailness of an aged man, or someone sick like Arran.

 

“Me… the Legend? Who am I kidding?”

 

Luke remembered the night he was summoned to Askr more clearly than ever. There was a flash of light, and suddenly he was standing on an altar in front of a young woman clad in white with some kind of… tool?

 

Immediately, as he always did, Luke puffed out his chest and got his act together. He had to make a good first impression.

 

“Call for your bards! They will want to write songs about me - Luke, the finest…”

 

But then he noticed the woman’s face, turned into a mixture of shock and disgust.

 

“4.75 percent. Four point seventy five percent. For a  _ pity-breaker _ .”

 

“You’re not Tibarn.”

 

Luke could feel something snap inside him. It wasn’t an emotional, or angry snap; it was like the pole of a tent. Like suddenly the main reinforcement of his body was no longer there - it took everything in him not to fall over.

 

Instead, he tried to let his good nature take over.

 

“Hey, c’mon, don’t look at me like that! I’m not *that* astounding, am I? I mean, it could be worse. You could’ve gotten a five-star Cain, or maybe a Gray–”

 

The woman turned around and started muttering to herself, her voice full of rooted bitterness.

 

“I remember hearing people talking about Luke pitybreaking them while they were trying to get Tibarn. I was laughing to myself, saying ‘haha, imagine if it happened to me.’”

 

“Well, it fucking happened.”

 

“Don’t let yourself get down in the dumps!” cried Luke. “I mean, the–”

 

“The barracks are that way, just get yourself settled in already.”

 

Something broke inside Luke that day. The Summoner didn’t say it outright, but it was painfully evident in her tone, in everything about her, that he was not the person she was looking for. He was 0% wanted here. She just wanted his cocky mug out of her face.

 

She had a hero in mind, and he wasn’t it.

 

“Why am I talking about big deals and average deals when I’m not even a deal at all?”

 

He was no hero, after all.

 

“Me? A legend? Hah!” Luke stared up at the barracks ceiling. “The legend of Luke? More like the legend of shit! I’m no legend. I really am nothing, aren’t I…”

 

Trickles of wetness began to trail down the sides of his face.

 

“All I wanted was to *be* someone. I just wanted… I just wanted to prove that I was someone, that I wasn’t just some replacement…”

 

And yet here he was, sleeping in the bunk where someone named Tibarn should’ve been. He wasn’t just a replacement – he was an unwanted substitute.

 

“Of course they don’t want me here. What use am I? I’m just an idiotic knight fresh out of training. I’m not like Prince Marth or even Lady Caeda...”

 

_ “Well, that makes two of us.” _

 

Luke suddenly sat up and instinctively wiped his face. Someone had entered the room while he was talking to himself. Standing in the doorway was his eternal rival and fellow Altean knight Roderick.

 

“Don’t be so surprised, buddy. It’s just me.”

 

“Rody, you’re here too?” said Luke. “Huh… what a coincidence…”

 

“Yeah, I’ve been rotting here on kitchen duty for a while now. Heard the summoner complaining about another pity-break and decided to see who it was.”

 

“So did you…”

 

Roderick folded his arms. “Yeah, I heard all of it.”

 

Luke fell silent. It was a little weird to put down his usual macho front, but at the same time, this was Rody after all…

 

“I mean, you’re in good company. I got 66 votes myself.”

 

“Heh… glad to see you suck just as much as I do.” A sad smile appeared on Luke’s face. “Think about it… Me, of all people, with the lowest ranking, in an event called ‘Choose Your Legends’...”

 

A small smile appeared on Roderick’s face. “You always did care more about appearances than ability, Luke. At the end of the day, does it really matter?”

 

“Huh…” Luke looked up at his longtime friend. “I mean, I can’t argue with that. But at the same time… we both suck in this realm. What the hell do we do?!”

 

“I don’t know, man,” said Roderick. “I don’t know. But seriously, what do you expect? This place is home to real heroes. Lords and ladies from realms we’ve never heard of. They’re no doubt big heroes in their homes already. Those people are the ones truly worthy of being called Heroes, no?”

 

Luke’s eyes flew to the huge  **534th** stamped on his paper.

 

“We’re newly graduated, fresh meat knights. It’s not like we could realistically stand up to heroes like Sir Sigurd or Prince Ephraim. Hell, Sigurd captured an entire country by himself!” Roderick shook his head. “But that’s why we still need to make the best of our time here, yeah?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Think about what Ryan will say if he hears that we fought alongside Sigurd the Holy Knight, the man who redefined early history!” said Roderick. “The kid’s going to be so impressed. And Cecile probably, too.”

 

“Huh…” said Luke. “You know, you’ve got a point. At the very least, I’ll have a story to tell. Something truly worthy of calling a bard for…”


End file.
